


In Mutual Obliviousness

by freyjawriter24



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Asexual Aziraphale (Good Omens), Asexual Crowley (Good Omens), Background Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer - Freeform, Comic-Con, Crowley's Hair (Good Omens), F/F, First Kiss, Hair Braiding, Ineffable Wives | Female Aziraphale/Female Crowley (Good Omens), It's not specified and they can be read otherwise but that's how i wrote it, Madame Tracy ships Aziraphale/Crowley, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Oblivious Crowley (Good Omens), POV Alternating, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, but they get there in the end, the ineffables and friends go to ComicCon, they're both incredibly oblivious your honour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:28:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27293464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freyjawriter24/pseuds/freyjawriter24
Summary: When Aziraphale and Crowley travel down to London for ComicCon, they aren't planning on letting their massive unrequited crushes on each other get in the way of their weekend. But, this being fanfic, there is only one bed...***Fic written fordontbelasagnaxfor the Ineffable Wives Exchange.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 25
Collections: Ineffable Wives Exchange 2020





	In Mutual Obliviousness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dontbelasagnax](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontbelasagnax/gifts).



> So, I ended up getting a little carried away with this one. I hope you enjoy!

They were all buzzing with excitement the whole trip down.

Neither car was what you would call ‘quiet’. Both were filled with the sounds of chatter and music and laugher, and even though Aziraphale had brought a book with her for the journey, there was no chance for her to use it – they were all, frankly, having too much fun.

It was a decently long trip from their uni down to London, but even by the time of the third loop of the Queen album that refused to be removed from Crowley’s car, the group of them were far from flagging.

“ANOTHER ONE BITES THE DUST!” Adam and Pepper shouted, in unison with each other if not the music.

“One Hell of a Friday night,” Crowley laughed to Aziraphale as their friends in the back seat competed with each other to give the best electric guitar impression. Aziraphale smiled back and hoped that the evening and Crowley’s glasses were both dark enough that Crowley wouldn’t see her blush.

They’d planned the journey carefully, the two cars-loads of students scheduling a break together at Watford Gap before braving the London traffic. At the services, they shoved together several tables and crowded around them, stuffing their faces with fast food even as they continued to chatter excitedly about what and who they wanted to see most.

“Miss Marvel,” Pepper said enthusiastically. “Definitely. They’re showing a preview of the new film tomorrow, and I _cannot_ miss that.”

“Ooh, yeah!” Brian agreed. “And Brie Larson’s going to be there too, I bought a signature. Did anyone else get signatures in the end?”

“I got a group photo with the cast of _The Antichrist_ ,” Anathema enthused. “For me and Newt.”

“I’m getting a signature from Bradley Walsh,” Tracy added, fluttering her eyelashes dramatically.

“Yeah, we _know_ ,” Crowley cut in, rolling her eyes behind her sunglasses. “You’ve only mentioned it six _thousand_ times!”

“I want to get into the comic writing panel tomorrow,” Adam said, scrolling through his phone. “Anyone fancy that with me?”

“What time is it at?” Aziraphale asked, opening her own phone to check her schedule.

“Three. And then your one about Shakespeare adaptations is on the same stage straight after.”

“Ah, perfect. Of course, then.”

“Make sure you leave time to look around everything, too,” Wensleydale reminded them.

“Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten,” Adam said. “Ugh, I’m going to spend _so much_ on Artists’ Alley.”

“ _Same_ ,” came the chorus of voices, and the group dissolved into laughter.

“Right, time’s up!” Tracy called. “Everyone back to the cars!”

The students grabbed the remains of their meals and shoved them into their mouths, Brian somehow managing to get both ketchup and chocolate milkshake on his face at the same time. Pepper and the boys laughed, but Tracy bustled over with a napkin like the mum-friend she was and roughly wiped him clean.

“Everyone got everything? Been to the loo? All sorted?”

A scattering of assent came back, and the group moved as one to the doors.

“Ooh, Brian, did you bring your speaker?” Adam called as they headed out into the evening chill. “Crowley’s music’s still stuck and I’m fed up of Queen. I wanna blast Disney songs the rest of the way.”

“Sure!” Brian called back, heading for Dick Turpin’s boot as Crowley groaned loudly.

“Oh shush, you know you like it really.”

“Hey, just because I know all the _words_ , and can sing them _perfectly_ , and regularly do so in front of _other people_ , does _not_ mean I like Disney songs!”

Brian snorted. Aziraphale tried and failed to hide her smile.

“What’s so funny, angel?” Crowley leaned against the roof of her car and flashed a lopsided grin.

Aziraphale pretended innocence. “Oh, nothing at all, I’m sure. Didn’t say a word.”

“Course not. I make perfect sense, me.”

A minute later, they were all crammed back into their respective vehicles – Anathema, Brian, Tracy, Wensleydale piled into Newt’s Renault Clio (nicknamed Dick Turpin after the best worst joke Newt had ever heard), and Aziraphale, Adam, and Pepper in shoved into Crowley’s Citroën (affectionately named The Bentley after the car Crowley wished she had).

Newt pulled away first, playing Safety Car to Crowley’s never-ending racing-game attitude to motorways, and The Bentley followed.

“Right, do we want to dive right in with ‘A Whole New World’, or build up to the good ones?” Adam said, scrolling one-handed through his phone.

“Oh, you _have_ to start with ‘Circle of Life’!” Pepper leaned over the phone too and took over scrolling, jabbing the song as soon as she saw it. The little blue speaker in Adam’s other hand immediately began blasting _The Lion King_ ’s soundtrack at top volume. The whole car joined in without a second thought.

“NAAAAAANTS INGONYAMAAA BAGITHI BABA!”

As promised, Crowley sang along perfectly to every word. Aziraphale couldn’t help but be a little bit impressed.

“You’re going to get a reputation as a Disney fan if you keep up with that,” Pepper said as the song came to an end.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Crowley said, sniffing disdainfully. “I don’t sleep with a Simba toy. Definitely not! You can’t prove anything!”

Adam giggled. “Well, Aziraphale can tonight. You’ll have to let us know which Disney princess Crowley has on her pyjamas, Az.”

Aziraphale went pink. “Ah, of course.”

“My bet’s Aurora,” Pepper said. “No, wait, Maleficent!”

“Nah, it’s obviously the snake from _The Jungle Book_ ,” Adam nodded sagely.

“I thought you said it would be a princess?” Aziraphale said, raising her eyebrows.

“How do you know it’s anything at all? Might be really boring, me.”

There was a moment of silence from the back seat as Adam and Pepper looked at one another. Then they both burst out laughing.

“What?” Crowley said quickly. “What, what did I say?”

“I think you, ah, implied you sleep naked,” Aziraphale said, her blush now a very firm red. The laughs from the back seat only got louder.

“No, sffgh, shit, I meant plain! Just – y’know, plain pyjamas! Like, all black, t shirt and shorts, nothing to see. Not – oh, shut up, both of you!”

Adam and Pepper did no such thing.

Aziraphale felt slightly embarrassed on Crowley’s behalf – she’d made similar slip-ups in the past herself, and hated the feeling of being the butt of the joke – but she couldn’t help also feeling curious. Crowley wasn’t the kind of person to get flustered at stuff like that, generally speaking. She was good at brushing off anything that happened, laughing along with everyone else or playing up to the joke. The fact that she seemed actually ruffled by this was... interesting. Maybe she really did have something embarrassing on her pyjamas after all.

* * *

Two hours later, after a bit of a queue coming off the motorway and then several long minutes trying to find a parking space as the sky above threatened rain, the group was back together again, waiting in the damp little reception of their B&B for Tracy to check them all in. They were tired now, drained from the high energy levels of the journey, and all they wanted was a good long sleep before the con tomorrow. And checking in was taking _forever_.

“Yep, there we go,” the receptionist said, a full ten minutes after they’d arrived. “That’s the first room done.” Crowley barely restrained herself from groaning audibly.

Little by little, the group shrank as each room of students disappeared in the direction of the lifts. Anathema and Newt left first, headed for the stairs instead (Newt did not have a good history with anything electrical. It was a testament to Dick Turpin’s staying power that he was able to drive it at all). Then went Adam, Brian, and Wensleydale, who’d decided to room together to help each other with their matching costumes the next morning. Tracy and Pepper’s key was handed over next, and the older woman handed off her bags to the younger so she could start settling them in while Tracy finished with the bookings.

“Should be one room left, then,” Tracy said to the receptionist. “For two.”

“Yes, one moment please.” The receptionist – whose name tag read ‘Mary’ – seemed to think she was the sloth from _Zootopia_. She clicked and scrolled a bit on the ancient-looking computer system, and typed in the booking number Tracy was holding out with two fingers. “Umm, yes, here we are. Double room, next door to yours by the looks of it! Is that one key or two?”

Crowley blinked, then glanced quickly at Aziraphale. They caught each other’s eyes, and looked away again immediately.

“Was that a double room, did you say?” Crowley said slowly. “Not a twin?”

“Umm, no, definitely a double. Is that alright?”

“Err, well...” Crowley ran a hand through her long red hair, looking out from her glasses sideway to try to evaluate Aziraphale’s pink expression without looking like she was staring at her. She mumbled a few incoherent consonant sounds before settling on: “That alright with you, angel?”

“Yes, fine, perfectly,” Aziraphale said, almost instantly. _Well, what the Hell does that mean?_

“Right then, there we go!” Tracy said, smoothing over the awkwardness. “And it’d best be two keys, just in case.”

“Okay, one moment then, please,” Mary said, turning to find the relevant fobs from the haphazard collection behind her.

Crowley stared very resolutely at the floor, not daring to look at Aziraphale again. Tracy seemed either blissfully oblivious to the whole situation, or otherwise suspiciously pleased with it. Crowley tried not to think too hard about what the latter option, or indeed Aziraphale’s pink-cheeked silence, might suggest.

The lift ride up to the room was quiet. Not with the exhaustion of a long journey, but with something far more energised and tense. It was only a couple of floors up, but it felt closer to millennia of strained silence.

“Right, see you tomorrow then, girls!” Tracy cooed as they reached their respective doorways. She knocked and was let in by Pepper, and then Crowley and Aziraphale were left alone for the first time.

* * *

Aziraphale watched as Crowley fumbled with the door key, fretting over whether to offer to help, or whether that would sound patronising, or whether the door would be open by the time she’d finished her sentence, leaving her looking useless and ridiculous. After all, this was probably only taking seconds, not minutes. Time was probably still ticking by normally, wasn’t it? Not getting lost in Crowley’s long-fingered hands, stretching out as she flexed them around the key and twisting knots in Aziraphale’s stomach as she turned the doorknob.

Something important to note here: Crowley and Aziraphale weren’t particularly close friends. Aziraphale could probably count on one hand the number of times they’d been alone together for any period of time. They’d met via mutual friends at uni, and therefore mostly hung out as part of a group rather than as a pair.

A second, arguably more important thing to note: Aziraphale had a huge and entirely hopeless crush on Crowley.

Aziraphale knew it was hopeless, without a shadow of a doubt, because of course it was. The two of them were from entirely different worlds. Aziraphale was doing her English Lit degree and spending most of her free time in the library, going to poetry readings in the evenings and mostly dragged into making friends by Pepper and Tracy and Brian, who seemed to have adopted her when they were in halls together last year. Crowley, meanwhile, was the very definition of cool, swaggering around campus from Astrophysics lectures to Biology labs, spending her nights driving to music concerts in other cities or throwing house parties. She was the kind of sharp-edged, smooth-talking, gorgeous woman that Aziraphale often wasn’t sure whether she wanted to be _with_ or just _be_. And there was no way that she’d ever be remotely interested in a stuffy, soft-looking librarian-in-the-making like Aziraphale. [1]

That didn’t stop Aziraphale’s heart from wanting what it wanted, though. And it didn’t stop Aziraphale from hoping that maybe, just maybe, there was the smallest possible chance of _something_ happening, no matter how tiny.

“Oop, there we go,” Crowley said as she finally managed to pry the door open. She stuck a foot in it to keep it open, switched on the light with her key hand, and then dragged her bags over the threshold, keeping her foot in the door for Aziraphale to follow after her.

The room was, to put it politely, small. There was a tiny wardrobe tucked behind the door, a second door to the miniscule-looking en suite beside it, and then practically the entire rest of the floorspace was taken up by the double bed. There wasn’t even any room to store bags, by the looks of it, so they’d have to climb over them to get in and out of bed.

_Oh well. That’s what you get for choosing cheap._

“Err, any preference for side?” Crowley asked, edging a little further into the room and standing at the foot of the bed, staring at it.

“Not particularly,” Aziraphale said lightly, trying to think as little as possible about what it was they were discussing.

“Right.” Crowley moved sideways down the thin gap on the left-hand side of the bed and dropped her bags there. “Um, I guess we should get ready for bed then. Do you want to use the bathroom first?”

“Oh, thank you, yes.” Aziraphale hurriedly put her bags down on the opposite side of the bed, and retrieved her pyjamas and washbag. “Shouldn’t be too long.”

She practically ran to the bathroom and locked the door, then second-guessed whether it seemed rude to lock it, then left it as it was and sat down heavily on the lid of the loo.

 _Gosh._ She had a whole weekend of this. She really needed to pull herself together and act like a normal human being, or Crowley was going to think she was some weirdo and never want to hang out with her again.

* * *

Crowley stifled a groan and flopped down onto the bed, swearing internally.

She had a whole weekend of this – a whole weekend of sharing a room, sharing a _bed_ , with the one person she had a frankly gigantic (and entirely hopeless) crush on.

Crowley was an optimist – or at least tried to be – but she knew with complete certainty that this was something that would never happen. They were entirely different people, for a start – Crowley was studying Natural Sciences, jumping between subjects she found interesting but hating the rigors of studying and labs and exams, spending all her free time staring at stars and getting lost in the music and atmosphere of concerts and house parties, trying to hide her dorkiness and be cool but failing dismally. Aziraphale, on the other hand, was the definition of beauty, all beaming smiles and cute outfits, actually enjoying her studies and reading like her life depended on it, but also finding the time to go to poetry salons and watch local theatre productions. She was the sort of kind-hearted, adorably upbeat, _gorgeous_ woman that Crowley knew she could never _be_ but would do anything to be _with_. And there was no way she’d be interested in a ridiculous black-clad bastard like Crowley.

This wasn’t the time to be lying around moping, though. Aziraphale was only metres away, getting ready for bed, and she’d expect Crowley to be doing the same.

The redhead dug around in her bag for a moment, eventually fishing out the clothes she’d brought to sleep in. She briefly considered turning the t-shirt inside-out so Aziraphale wouldn’t see what was on it, then decided to own the look and put it on the right way round. Aziraphale still wasn’t out of the bathroom once that was done, so Crowley pulled out her washbag too, quickly putting on an extra layer of deodorant to avoid any undue embarrassment overnight. Then she set about pulling out her cosplay pieces for the con so she could hang them up together, ready for the next day.

The bathroom door clicked just as Crowley was debating nipping past it for a coat hanger, and Aziraphale stepped out.

Crowley was stunned into silence. Not for the first time, she couldn’t help comparing the person before her to the origins of that too-honest pet name; Aziraphale looked like an angel.

Having said that, there was nothing in particular pointing that way. Aziraphale was wearing a pale blue pyjama top over actual honest-to-God tartan bottoms in shades of cream and beige. Her ever-present alice band was gone, though, and she must have just washed her face because her cheeks were pinker than usual, and somehow those short blonde curls and that scattering of freckles and the inherent softness of her being just screamed _angelic_ to every one of Crowley’s faltering wits.

“Um, did you want to go in there?” Aziraphale said after a beat.

“Oh,” Crowley said. “Erm, yeah. Lemme just – I was going to grab a hanger for all this first...”

The angel nodded and squeezed down her side of the bed for her friend to get past, and it was all Crowley could do to focus on her costume long enough to hang it up before escaping to the bathroom to remember how to breathe.

* * *

Aziraphale had had to psyche herself up to step out of the room, and that was quite a ridiculous notion in itself. It was just Crowley, and she was nothing to be scared of. She might look dark and sharp and dangerous, but that was more an aesthetic than anything else – and there was certainly nothing to worry about in unlocking a simple bathroom door and stepping out of it.

Still, it took her a minute.

When she finally did, the air in that tiny room froze for a moment as she took in bedtime Crowley.

She was wearing a simple outfit, really, but it was at once so perfectly _her_ and yet so entirely discordant with her usual aesthetic that it was, in a word, stunning. Instead of the usual leather jackets, skinny jeans, deep-neck waistcoats, chokers, and the like, Crowley was wearing just an oversized black t-shirt and a pair of baggy grey pyjama shorts. It was the looseness of the outfit that was striking by comparison – that, and the large image of a rainbow unicorn on the front of the shirt.

It took Aziraphale a few seconds to find her voice. “Um, did you want to go in there?”

“Oh,” Crowley said, and mumbled something about a coathanger, gesturing widely at the costume pieces on the bed. Aziraphale moved aside for her friend to get past, and then tried to focus on sorting out her own clothes until Crowley eventually disappeared into the bathroom.

Aziraphale let out a breath she hadn’t quite realised she was holding, and then berated herself all over again for getting worked up over this.

_We’re just two friends, sharing a bed. It’s just a sleepover. There’s literally nothing to be getting so stressed about. Stop overthinking this._

In the spirit of not overthinking things, Aziraphale grabbed the book she’d brought with her and climbed into the right side of the bed, settling down under the covers and very firmly staring at the open pages, willing herself to read and not think about all the things rushing around in her head.

Eventually Crowley surfaced again, smelling vaguely of mint and deodorant, and climbed into the other side of the bed.

“Do you, uh, want to be reading for long?”

“Oh, no. I was just passing the time.”

“Right. Sorry, I was just asking so I – I mean, I’ll mess around on my phone if you want to keep reading...?”

“No, really, I’m ready to sleep if you are.”

“Okay. Um, have you got an alarm set for tomorrow? I think the others were saying seven-ish, seven-thirty, depending on how much getting ready you need.”

“Mine’s relatively simple, I’m afraid, it won’t take me long at all. What about you?”

“Yeah, I was thinking half past, if that’s alright with you. I’ll take all the sleep I can get, me.”

“Wonderful, then.”

Aziraphale put down her book, checked her phone was charging properly, then snuggled further down into the bed to sleep. Crowley mirrored her, then turned towards the little stool that functioned as a bedside table, took off her sunglasses and laid them down there, and switched the light off.

The darkness was sudden and oddly still. Immediately, Aziraphale felt the creeping desire to move – to roll over, to adjust her position in the bed – and the equally strong urge to avoid disturbing Crowley by never moving again.

Minutes ticked by. Neither of them moved. The bed was just wide enough that they weren’t touching, but just narrow and cheap enough that even Crowley’s steady breathing could be felt from this side of it.

 _You’re overthinking this again,_ Aziraphale told herself. In lieu of sighing (a sound that would be far too loud in the oppressive silence of the room) she bit her lip, screwed up her eyes in effort – then rolled over to get comfy.

A moment later, Crowley did the same, and Aziraphale had to wonder whether she’d been having the exact same internal dilemma the whole time. Or perhaps she was just already asleep, and got bothered into moving by Aziraphale wriggling around.

The mental monologue went on like that for some time. But, eventually, Aziraphale drifted off to sleep.

* * *

An alarm is always an uncomfortable way to start the day. It’s too loud, too jumpy, and even if you choose something soft and relaxing, eventually your mind connects that sound with all the negatives of waking up earlier than your body wants to, and it jumps into survival mode at just a hint of that instantly-recognisable noise.

That does not, however, make it easier to get up.

Crowley reached out for the phone before she’d even fully woken, hitting snooze out of habit and immediately rolling over for five more minutes.

It took her a moment to recognise that the bed felt different. A few seconds longer after that to realise there was someone else in it. She opened her eyes with a start.

“Morning,” Aziraphale said, looking directly into her eyes from far too close this early on a weekend.

“Wha– um, ah, morning, angel.” Crowley blinked, the proximity of this moment pushing a rapidly-spreading heat into her cheeks. Then she realised she wasn’t wearing sunglasses, and instinctively shut her eyes and rolled back over to grab them.

“Wha’ssa time?” Crowley mumbled, scraping her hair back out of her eyes and shoving the glasses on. She reached out for the curtains and twitched them open a little to let the morning sunlight filter in.

“Seven-thirty, I believe. That’s what time you said you’d set your alarm for.”

“Shit, yeah.”

Sunglasses safely on, she dared look back at Aziraphale. The angel was lying in the beam of sunlight Crowley had created, her little crown of curly blonde hair catching the rays and scattering them like a halo. Aziraphale seemed to be watching her, and far too adorably, too – the pale blue of her pyjama top matched her eyes perfectly, and there was a soft glow about her like this, slow with sleep and yet to make herself presentable for the day. Crowley couldn’t help but privately wish for a sight like more often than just this weekend.

“Uh, um...” Crowley swallowed. “We should get up. Get ready. Don’t want to... keep the others waiting.”

Aziraphale hummed her agreement, but made no effort to move.

“D’you want to use the bathroom first?”

“No, thank you dear. I went first yesterday when we got in. Only fair that you should now.”

Crowley nodded. She felt like there was something else she should say, something she’d forgotten to do, but there was nothing. So she got up and headed for their tiny bathroom, ready to tame her hair and face the day.

* * *

Somehow, Crowley was even more gorgeous in the morning. Aziraphale had drifted into consciousness a little before the alarm, as she usually did, and found herself staring at the back of an unusually messy head of red hair.

The remembrance of where she was came almost immediately, but her mind was reluctant to accept it. _Wouldn’t it be nice if this was it?_ her half-asleep brain asked. _If this was your view every morning? If you could reach out right now, and..._

Aziraphale sighed, and let that thought trail off into oblivion. There were any number of ways to end that sentence, and none of them were worth fantasising about. It was too weird, lying next to her right now, to think about those things. To think about holding her, to think about waking her up by whispering sweet nothings in her ear, or by laying a gentle kiss on her shoulder, cheek, neck...

_No. I just said I wasn’t going to think about that. Shut up, brain._

Thankfully, Crowley’s phone alarm went off a moment later, which resulted in plenty to distract Aziraphale with. Her bedfellow groaned – a deep, heavy sound that Aziraphale couldn’t help but smile at – reached out to switch off the phone, then immediately rolled over, practically into Aziraphale’s face.

It was still relatively dim in the room, but as Crowley’s lids fluttered open in surprise, Aziraphale got the perfect, close-up view of her eyes.

They were _gorgeous_. Bright yellow mixed with hints of burnt orange to create an almost golden effect, like a sunrise. Aziraphale hadn’t actually seen them before – not up close, at least – but she knew Crowley was self-conscious of them. And on the one hand, she could see why – it must get tiring having people tell you ‘oh, you have yellow eyes!’ all the time, or endlessly asking where you got your contacts from. But on the other hand, they were beautiful. And society shouldn’t have made her feel the need to hide something like that.

A moment later, they were gone. Crowley had screwed her eyes shut almost as soon as she realised Aziraphale was looking, and now her sunglasses were back on her face, and there was something squeezing Aziraphale’s heart at that. She wanted to say something – but anything she did say might sound odd, perhaps creepy or patronising or too intimate. So she said nothing.

Crowley used the bathroom first, and came out still brushing her hair. She was still messing around with it when Aziraphale came out of the bathroom too, apparently trying to pull it back tight and neat enough to hide under a wig.

“Maybe if you plait it, it would work better?” Aziraphale suggested, smoothing down her dress and reaching for her gloves. “You could wind it around the back of your head so it stays in place.”

The redhead laughed shortly. “’M not that good at plaiting. I’m more of a shove it in and hope for the best kind of girl.”

The words were out of Aziraphale’s mouth before she could stop herself. “I could help you.”

Crowley stared at her for a minute. “Umm, I... err. How long would it take?”

Aziraphale grabbed her phone to check the time. “Not too long, hopefully. We might have to be quick at breakfast.”

“Not a problem for me,” Crowley said quickly. She looked down at her wig, then the hairbrush, then back up at Aziraphale. “Yeah, sure, give it a try. It can’t hurt.”

“Right.” Aziraphale hesitated for a moment, then put aside her gloves and took a step towards Crowley. “Ah, do you want to sit on the edge of the bed, facing away, and then I can stand behind you?”

“Sure.” Crowley got into position and waited.

Aziraphale swallowed. “How long do we have?”

“About ten minutes. Fifteen, if you don’t fancy food.”

“I can manage ten,” Aziraphale said quickly. She took a good look at the wig, figuring out where exactly it would sit against Crowley’s face and where would be best for the excess hair to hide. Then she reached out, tentatively, and took that beautiful hair in her hands.

It was soft and silky-smooth, clearly well-looked after and obviously just-brushed. Aziraphale couldn’t help run her fingers through it a couple of times as she separated the hair into sections. Then she got a hold of herself, and switched to efficiency mode.

“Ten minutes,” she murmured, and set about plaiting.

* * *

“Morning!” Tracy said, far too brightly for the hour, as Crowley followed Aziraphale into the B&B’s little breakfast room. She was dressed, rather impressively, as the Ruby of the Sea, her tiefling horns curving up out of her deep-red wig and curling elegantly over the back of her head.

“Hey,” Crowley said drowsily, collapsing into an empty chair next to Pepper, who was dressed for today as Wonder Woman.

“Ooh, it smells wonderful!” Aziraphale said. “Do we just grab a plate, or...?”

“Yeah, it’s a buffet,” Brian said, mouth full and egg somehow on his nose. He, Adam, and Wensleydale were dressed, rather tastefully, as the Powerpuff Girls. “Have as much as you like.”

Aziraphale hurried off to grab breakfast, and Crowley couldn’t help but gaze after her for a moment. She could still feel those quick, practiced hands dancing through her hair, braiding it into place like it was second nature, and fitting the wig over the top so neatly it was like there was nothing else there. It had been surprisingly soothing, despite the movements involved being so quick – a kind of massage, and one that, in Aziraphale’s hands, relaxed her almost to the point of falling asleep again. Which was unexpected.

“You sleep okay?” Tracy asked, flicking her hair over a red-painted shoulder. “You look very dreamy.”

“Dreamy?” Crowley said, stifling a yawn. “How do you mean?”

“Like you’re still in one.” Tracy flicked her eyes over to Aziraphale, in her beautiful Regency dress. “How was last night?”

“Fine.” Crowley said shortly. Then she caught Tracy’s expression, and narrowed her eyes behind her glasses. “You didn’t book us a double on purpose, did you?”

The older woman’s eyes sparkled mischievously. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You–!” Crowley gaped at her for a moment. Then she sagged. “Am I that obvious?”

“Oh, it’s not all bad,” Tracy grinned. “I’m sure Aziraphale was suffering just as much as you were.”

“Yeah, right.” Crowley pinched the bridge of her nose. “Look, just – just don’t say anything, okay? I don’t want to scare her off.”

Tracy mimed zipping her lips, then locking them and tucking the key conspicuously into her cleavage. Crowley rolled her eyes and tried to join the rest of their friends in conversation.

The others were all already discussing plans for where to head first once they were inside the con. Anathema and Newt arrived a moment later, dressed as Sarah Jane Smith and the Fourth Doctor respectively. They grabbed plates of food and then immediately joined in.

Crowley rubbed her eyes under her glasses, still exhausted. She wished they’d had longer to get ready, so that Aziraphale hadn’t had to rush with her hair. She wished she’d got up earlier, and savoured the extra time just hanging out alone with her crush. But Crowley had never been a morning person.

She sighed and blinked hard behind her glasses, trying to wake herself up more. Maybe a coffee would help –

“Here you go,” Aziraphale said quietly, setting a mug down in front of Crowley before hurrying off to her seat at the opposite end of the table, food in hand. Crowley stared after her, but Aziraphale didn’t look back, launching into conversation with Anathema and Adam at once.

Crowley stared down at the mug. Inside, steaming hot and fresh, was a black coffee. _Huh._

It took a minute for it to cool down enough to drink, but Crowley was pleasantly surprised to find it had just the right amount of sugar in it too. _Double huh._

* * *

Con was amazing. It was Aziraphale’s first time there, so it was all a bit overwhelming in the beginning, but most of her friends had been at least once before, and there was plenty of guidance offered to make the most out of the day. She went to panels with Crowley and Pepper in the morning, with Adam, Newt, and Anathema in the afternoon, and in between the whole group of them met up to explore the merch stalls and eat overpriced lunch together.

The people were amazing, too. Half of the con-goers were just as dressed up as Aziraphale, if not more so – there were recognisable costumes from TV shows, comic books, games, films, and more. Several of them stopped to compliment the costumes of her friends, including several Tenth and Thirteenth Doctors who wanted photos with Newt and Anathema, and an endless stream of Wonder Woman, Captain Marvel, and Ms Marvel cosplayers who wanted pictures with Pepper.

Only a few people were interested in stopping to look at Aziraphale’s costume, though she did get several compliments from passing strangers. She got the impression that most people didn’t have the slightest clue which classic novel heroine she was dressed as, which was honestly fair enough, but at least they seemed impressed by her commitment to the outfit. She’d even gone to the lengths of embroidering subtle little gothic symbols into her dress, which she was quite pleased with.

“Who are you dressed as again?” Anathema asked as they were grabbing food that afternoon.

“Catherine Morland. From _Northanger Abbey_.”

Anathema frowned. “Oh. I thought you were Lizzie Bennet. But, er, I wasn’t actually asking you. I was asking Crowley.”

“Oh! Sorry.”

“No, no, it’s good.” She turned back to Crowley. “Who are you dressed as?”

“Dorothy,” Crowley answered shortly.

Anathema frowned. “No you’re not. Where’s your blue dress and ruby slippers?”

“Not _that_ Dorothy,” Crowley said, exaggeratedly rolling her eyes. “Dorothy Zbornak.”

“Who?”

“From _The Golden Girls_ , right?” Newt put in. Anathema stared at him like she’d never seen him before.

Aziraphale was interested. “Is it good? I’ve never seen it.”

Crowley grinned. “Yeah, it’s pretty good. I mean, good enough to bother with the costume, so. Yeah. Pretty good.”

Aziraphale made a mental note to get a copy of _The Golden Girls_ as soon as she got home.

* * *

“Cor, I’m _exhausted_!” Crowley said, flopping onto the bed as soon as they got in.

Aziraphale stood above her, carefully stripping off her long gloves. “Me too,” she smiled, looking, once again, just like an angel. “There was just so much to see! And so many people dressed up! I’m so glad I wore a costume – I wasn’t sure how common they’d be, and whether I’d feel silly or not.”

“Nah, ComicCon’s great for that,” Crowley said, sitting up on her elbows. “There’s always people dressed as a million different things, most you’ve never heard of, and you’re never going to be the most ridiculous-looking person in the room. But no one cares! No, scratch that, they _love_ it! That’s the beauty of it!”

“I certainly got that sense today,” Aziraphale said, sinking down onto the corner of the bed and kicking her shoes off. “I’m definitely going to invest in more comfortable footwear next time, though.”

Crowley laughed, and kicked her own shoes off. “Excellent advice.”

She reached up to take off her wig, and as she did so her hands met the coiled braids on her head, and she remembered the surprisingly gentle rush of this morning. It felt like forever ago.

“Do you want me to take that out for you?” Aziraphale offered. There was an uncertainty in her voice, far more hesitant than her easy amusement a moment ago.

“Oh, umm...” Crowley frowned, fingers dancing around her temples. “I was thinking of wearing it to bed. You know, stop it tangling overnight.”

Aziraphale tilted her head to one side, looking at Crowley’s hair with a critical eye. “I’m not sure it’ll be particularly comfortable like that,” she said slowly. “You’d be better off with a wider plait, so it doesn’t press against your head so hard as you sleep on it.”

Crowley took a breath. _Come on. Be brave._

“Would you redo it for me?”

Aziraphale’s expression softened. “Yes, of course, my dear.”

They got into their pyjamas first, hanging up their costumes and readying tomorrow’s outfits, chattering quietly about the day ahead as they did so. Then Crowley sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed and waited. This time, Aziraphale sat down behind her.

It was like being a preteen all over again. The feeling was the same, like being at a sleepover – messing around with one another’s clothes and hair, talking about all the ridiculous things you were going to do in the future, snuggling up under the covers in childish pyjamas and talking until gone midnight just because you could. Looking at the girl you liked a little bit more than you should. Hoping she might be the one who offered to touch your hair. Clinging on to every bit of proximity, wanting _something_ to happen but never being entirely sure what.

Aziraphale brought her steady fingers to Crowley’s hair and began to undo the braids. Without thinking, Crowley reached up to stop her.

“There’s no time limit this time,” she said quietly. “You don’t need to rush.”

Crowley wasn’t sure whether she imagined the intake of breath behind her. But she definitely didn’t imagine the soft squeeze of her fingers as Aziraphale replied “okay.”

From there, Crowley was in Heaven.

Aziraphale’s hands were incredibly gentle as they pulled Crowley’s hair free from the plaits and ran her fingers through the strands to prevent any knots forming between the waves. She moved carefully and methodically, but with a more relaxed pace this time, slowly undoing the work she’d done this morning. Each slight pressure on Crowley’s scalp felt wonderful, and all the more so for who was doing it. She took off her sunglasses and closed her eyes, giving into the sensation.

Aziraphale seemed to be enjoying herself too. With each new loosened section, she hummed quietly to herself in approval, and the way she stroked through Crowley’s hair, from the root right to the tips, felt incredible.

“There we go,” Aziraphale said after a while. “It’s all out now, if you wanted to look.”

“Is it worth looking?” Crowley asked, her eyes still shut.

“I find it fun to. It looks very striking in your red.”

A smile twitched at Crowley’s lips, and she decided to go for it. A little delay to further bliss couldn’t hurt.

The bathroom mirror was small, but just big enough for the two of them to fit next to each other.

“Oh, wow,” Crowley laughed, flicking her hair around to try and see it from every angle. “It’s gone all wavy!”

Aziraphale was right – the way the hair had bent to fit itself into the braids had quite a cool effect, bouncing the light off at different angles and highlighting the depth of the colour. It didn’t look quite _real_ , though – her hair was too naturally straight and the plaits hadn’t been quite the right size to result in anything suitable for the cover of a magazine. But still, Crowley wouldn’t mind wearing her hair like this tomorrow at con. She didn’t have a costume planned, so it wasn’t going to clash with anything. And it would remind her of how it got like that. Of Aziraphale’s fingers on her head, in her hair.

“So how are you going to do it now?” she asked casually, still pretending to admire herself in the mirror.

“I was thinking a single loose French plait.”

“Nice.” Crowley headed out the door.

“It won’t take long.”

Crowley paused. “Okay. Well... take as long as you need. I don’t mind either way.”

She did, she minded passionately, she wanted Aziraphale to play with her hair as long as possible, to stroke and braid and massage to her heart’s content all night, if she wanted to – but only if she wanted to. If this was Aziraphale hinting that she was uncomfortable in any way, then of course Crowley would step back.

“You don’t need to do it at all, if you don’t want to.”

“No, I want to.” Crowley turned to look back at Aziraphale, and caught her just as the blush bloomed over her angelic face. “I mean... You...”

It wasn’t often that Aziraphale was lost for words. She was quiet a lot of the time, yes, but when she did speak it was usually with a kind of measured confidence. She didn’t usually stutter or trail off into nothingness, at least.

The sudden vulnerability in Aziraphale’s face reminded Crowley that she’d never put her sunglasses back on. She prayed to any God or gods that were listening that she didn’t look half as weak as she felt right now, looking at this gorgeous woman staring helplessly at her. [2]

“You have beautiful hair,” Aziraphale finished, finally. “I... I enjoy playing with it. If that’s okay.”

“Course it is, angel,” Crowley said softly. Even if she’d secretly hated it, she’d have let Aziraphale play as long as she wanted. _Anything for you._

They moved back onto the bed in silence, assuming the same positions as before. And yet somehow everything was closer, tighter, more... More what? Intimate? No, that wasn’t right. Tense, perhaps. But what was there to be tense about? It was just the same as it had been a minute or two before, and there was no way that Aziraphale felt anything like what was sending Crowley’s heart racing right now. And yet...

Aziraphale’s hands found Crowley’s hair again, stroking through the braid-waved strands from root to tip. She ran her fingers firmly over her scalp, separating the hair into wide sections and smoothing them into place. Then she began plaiting, beginning right at the top of Crowley’s head, and slowly adding more and more hair into the mix, gently tugging the wavy sections into place.

It was still relaxing, despite whatever added tension Crowley was imagining. It wasn’t quite the same sensation as before, though – the brisk, winding braids of this morning had a purpose, but they were also more intimate for it, more close and detailed.

Too soon, Aziraphale was tying off the end of the plait. “Done,” she breathed. And Crowley closed her eyes one final time, inhaling in the closeness of this moment before either of them moved.

“Thanks, angel.” She turned around and gave a grateful smile. “At least it’ll be easier to brush in the morning!”

Aziraphale wasn’t smiling, though. “Crowley, I...”

The redhead blinked. She couldn’t remember what she’d done with her glasses. All she knew was she wasn’t wearing them, and that had seemed fine at the time, but now... Now Aziraphale had made direct eye contact, and she couldn’t look away.

“If I...” Aziraphale began again, and then she stopped and shook her head. “I’m sorry, I just... I’m bad at saying things like this, I don’t want you to – to feel...”

She gazed helplessly at Crowley. Crowley tried to smile back, offer support or encouragement or _something_ , but her throat had gone dry and her face muscles had decided to abandon her to slack-jawed staring.

“Crowley, do you... like me?”

She blinked. “Wha–? Of course I like you.”

Aziraphale smiled weakly. “No, I mean... I mean _like me_ like me. In a... not in a friends way.”

Crowley swallowed. “Yeah.”

“What?”

“Um, uh, nghhh... Yeah. I said yeah.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale seemed genuinely surprised at that outcome. She also didn’t seem to know what to do next.

“Do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Like me. In a ‘not in a friends way’.”

“Oh. Yes.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Crowley paused. “Oh.”

This, she felt quite strongly, was the moment where violins were supposed to swell and tell them to _get on with it already_. But in the absence of musical cues, apparently all that business was up to them.

“Would you –?” Crowley began, at the exact same moment Aziraphale said “Could I –?”

They both stopped, and then couldn’t help but giggle a little.

“Were you just going to ask if we could –?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Right then. Well, do you want to –?”

“Yes, please.”

“Oh. Good.”

* * *

It was exactly as awkward and exactly as wonderful as Aziraphale had always feared and hoped it would be. It was soft and gentle, slow and halting, but it was there, very firmly _real_ , and it was like walking on air. High and light and wrapped in the beauty of the sky, but very much liable to fall at any moment. But at least with someone else there to catch you.

They kissed, incredibly, and then they parted. Aziraphale looked at Crowley’s awed expression, and let out a little nervous giggle.

“What?”

“You just look so...” Aziraphale flapped a hand loosely, searching for the right word. “Happy.”

“I am,” she said, so simply and genuinely that there was no way that wasn’t the absolute truth.

Aziraphale smiled back, daring to show a little of the radiance she felt. “Me too,” she whispered.

They kissed again, more firmly this time, though with just as much wonder. Aziraphale’s hands found Crowley’s hair again, and Crowley’s landed softly on Aziraphale’s cheek and neck.

 _Perhaps,_ Aziraphale thought distantly, deliriously, _sharing a bed with my crush won’t be so difficult after all._

**Author's Note:**

> 1 The nickname ‘angel’ had nothing to do with anything, of course. It was a silly little inside joke, an offhand comment that had become commonplace, and didn’t mean anything. Definitely not. [return to text]
> 
> 2 Not that that meant anything, of course. [return to text]
> 
> **Other notes:**
> 
> With thanks to everyone in the GO Events server who helped me last-minute choose some of the above costumes! I did choose costumes for each of the characters for Day 2 of the con, too, but they didn’t get that far in the end. Turns out these two really want to kiss!
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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